Provocative Attraction

by Altonya Washington

  “Jesus, V.” Rook closed his eyes and hung his head for a second or three. “I shouldn’t have put that in your head.”

  “It’s not such a far stretch,” she said, hearing misery claim her voice. “Makes perfect sense given where things stand.”

  “I still shouldn’t have said it. There are lots of other explanations just as valid. It’s just that I can’t afford to take any chances.”

  “But you still believe he’s capable of taking a life?” she challenged. “You think he may’ve taken Reynolds’s?”

  “I shouldn’t have said that either. It was anger talking.”

  Viva gave a smile that was just as miserable as her former expression. “It’s okay to be angry.”

  “It’s not okay for me.”

  “Signor Lourdess? Are you and the signorina ready?”

  The driver’s inquiry interrupted Viva’s mounting curiosity and her intentions to question Rook’s haunted admission.

  “Thanks, Luca.” Rook sent the man a quick nod and smile before his hands tightened at Viva’s arms. Then he was leading her to the waiting limo and getting her settled in the back of the sleek gray vehicle.

  “You may want to get out of that coat,” he suggested once Luca had shut the car door, securing them inside. “It’s over fifteen minutes to the hotel.” He looked out the window at the white sky. “We’ll probably wake up to snow by morning.”

  “Thought I saw a few flakes while I waited for you to finish up.”

  Faint concern dwelled in his eyes. “You should’ve gotten into the car.”

  “I didn’t mind and it was nice seeing you get acquainted with your new business associates.”

  Rook raised a brow. “They aren’t my associates yet.”

  “So they’re still trying to decide if you can give them what they want?” Viva slipped out of the rich tan-colored wool.

  “Oh, they already know that I can,” Rook remarked without an ounce of arrogance, only unshakable confidence. “This trip is about whether I’m willing to pull up stakes in order to give it to them.”

  Viva laughed. “Ahh...so you’re being wooed, huh?”

  “Seems so.” Rook tossed his brown leather jacket to the long seat opposite the one he and Viva shared.

  “And how do your guys feel about that?” She listened as Rook shared his plans.

  The executive team would interchange relocation—six months in Italy, six months in the States. Rook explained that the goal was to interview local candidates who would oversee day-to-day operations in the future. Any member of the executive team would be welcome to live there abroad or head back to the States.

  “None of them have personal ties that’d prevent them from making the leap if they decided to,” he finished.

  “So they’re loners just like their boss?” Laughter mingled with Viva’s words. She watched him smooth a hand across his head, a move her eyes followed with longing. She wished it were her fingers gliding across the close crop of waves.

  “They’re not like their boss.” Rook smirked, appearing quietly amused. “At least they’ve got some semblance of a social life.”

  “Are you saying you live like a hermit?”

  “For the most part, I guess,” he admitted, following a moment’s consideration. “I suppose that’s best.”

  Shaking her head, Viva tucked her legs up on the car seat. “I’m sure every woman in Philadelphia would disagree with you on that.” The interior lighting was a low golden gleam, but enough illumination for her to study him closely then, glimpsing a reaction she’d classify as a cross between regret and resolve. The muscle flexing along his jaw was one she recognized all too well as a signal that his frustration was mounting.

  The very last thing she wanted was for either of them to be experiencing frustration there. Sadly, she didn’t hold out much hope of them having much chance at avoiding it. At any rate, she hoped they could at least try for one night without it.

  With a sigh, Viva uncurled her legs to unzip the chic block-heeled boots she’d worn for the trip. She wriggled her toes indulgently once she tugged off the shoes and tossed them to the opposite side of the dim cabin. She heard Rook’s chuckle, a second before she caught his animated expression. “What?” A half smile curved her mouth.

  “I see your shoes are still one of the first things you come out of?”

  Viva slid an amused look toward the abandoned boots and shrugged. “Ten minutes barefoot sounds like heaven to me.”

  “Hmph, sounds like you’re about to have your work cut out for you.” At her confusion, Rook explained, “Getting used to those neck breakers you brought along for the show.”

  Viva waved off his concern and settled back against the decadent suede cushioning of the seat. “I’m not worried. The camera will mask the majority of my discomfort.” She laughed softly. “You’d be surprised by how big an ally the camera can be when you develop a love affair with it. Still...” She gave another indulgent wiggle of her toes. “They’re finicky, so you have to know how to sweet-talk them.”

  Rook’s expression was fixed. His stirring gaze appeared even more brilliant given the intensity with which he watched her then. “I don’t think you’d have to do much sweet talking. The camera’s a slave to what it sees after all.”

  The unexpected compliment sent arousal plumbing her core with shocking ruthlessness. At any rate, Viva was in no mood to make her needs known only to have him deny her. Instead, she turned, intending to seek solace at the other end of the long, wide seat.

  She found herself on her back instead, with Rook’s chest against hers. The throbbing at her core became a relentless vibration that seemed to take command of her entire body. Her fingers sank into the luxurious fleece of his midnight-blue sweatshirt in an effort to draw him closer as well as to cease the mad tremble of her fingers.

  The effort was basically useless. Sensation had her all but begging him to give her what had been ravaging her dreams for far too long.

  Rook’s thoughts, however, seemed to be traveling along the same vein as the woman he held. He found the fastening of her dress, releasing it with a dexterous touch. The zipper tab followed from its hiding place snug beneath her arm on the curve-hugging frock.

  The move told Viva that he’d most likely scoped out the tab’s inconspicuous location the moment she’d arrived in her sister’s living room dressed for the trip.

  The zipper made barely a sound as he tugged the tab to its lowest point. The material gaped open at Viva’s side, providing easy access to her breasts heaving against the lacy, black cups of her bra.

  Viva bit her lip to still its quivering, when spasms rocked her as Rook’s wide palm covered one of the lace-covered mounds and squeezed. The move was followed by the moan-inducing trip his thumb made around one straining nipple. She wanted so much more than what he was giving her.

  Grudgingly, Viva acknowledged that dressing for the weather, not to mention their current location, was going to make a lustier exploration impossible. She treated herself by delighting in the sheer pleasure of having him so near. Rook didn’t crush her beneath him, but gave her enough of his considerable weight to bring an approving smile to her mouth.

  Viva found her way beneath his sweatshirt. She pouted for a moment when her nails encountered another shirt beneath instead of the taut skin she sought. The shirt hung outside loose-fitting corduroys and she made quick work of fumbling beneath the hem, only to discover a T-shirt tucked neatly inside the waistband.

  Hissing a curse, she slammed a fist to his side. “What’s with all these clothes?” she grumbled.

  “It’s cold outside.” His reminder was muffled where his mouth was busy at the base of her throat.

  “Maybe I should’ve worn more under my dress,” she huffed, “even though my efforts don’t seem to be appreciated—”


  Her words were smothered by a kiss that sent moans filling the cabin. Viva heard her own voice as well as Rook’s. Knowing the moment was to be completely savored, she threaded her fingers through the short, sleek curls of his hair. She smiled, even as her mouth was ravaged by the driving plunges of his tongue.

  She had almost—almost—forgotten how luxurious his hair was, how taut and unyielding his body was, how sweetly overpowering he felt against her. Viva tried to drive her tongue against his using the same potent thrusts, but she was no match, not against the hunger that fueled his kiss.

  He seemed okay with her not being able to do much more than take what he gave her, so Viva didn’t see much need to change the status quo. Her strokes in his hair took on a less frantic display. She was roasting inside the dress, despite the fact that he’d already unzipped it. She may have bit her tongue to resist begging him to do more. Happily, her tongue was already engaged in an act she dared not interrupt.

  Once Rook had ventured beneath the already hiked hem of her dress, Viva was positively purring beneath him. When he broke the kiss, she gulped in much-needed air and at the same time cursed him for breaking their contact.

  “And you talk to me about too many clothes?” His voice sounded like a low rumble, yet it was easily decipherable in the quiet confines of the car.

  Viva felt his hands at her hips, cradling her bottom encased in a pair of thick tights.

  “You only need to tug,” she said in a breathy tone that had somewhat become her celebrity calling card, and bumped her hips to his for emphasis.

  Rook didn’t require the nudge as he was already easing down the tights. He could have cursed the fever that drove him like an inexperienced teen, but just then he was welcoming it. The zeal rushed his veins like some form of adrenaline to which there was no comparison.

  He hadn’t denied himself a woman’s touch since losing Viva. Instead, he’d indulged—overmuch at times. He’d been determined to scour her from the walls of his memory. Those romps had done the trick momentarily. He’d been able to lose himself in lust. But only because he’d refused to acknowledge that the sensation fell far short of what he’d known with Viva.

  Rook nuzzled his face deep into the fragrant hollow at Viva’s neck, groaning as his palms filled with her derriere. Though the mounds were toned, they maintained the feminine lushness that stiffened his sex, which was straining almost painfully against his button fly.

  The low growl of a curse had Viva surfacing from the haze of her arousal. She knew Rook’s reaction wasn’t in response to the sensuality they were losing themselves in. Thankfully, he didn’t give her long to wonder at the sudden change in his mood.

  “We’re turning off the main road. We’ll be at the hotel soon,” he said.

  Viva didn’t bother asking if they had to stop. That answer, though disappointing, was obvious. What wasn’t obvious and what she most wanted an answer to, was whether they could finish what they’d started.

  Chapter 8

  With the exception of the front desk and maintenance staff, the Hotel Oasi was awash in silence when Rook and Viva arrived. The snowfall that had begun at the airport had continued to drift steadily and was dusting the hotel’s picturesque grounds by the time they’d exited the car.

  In spite of the quiet beauty, Viva felt as though she had a twenty-piece brass section performing inside her head. Sexual frustration had been an aspect of her life that she’d learned to live with. She hadn’t exactly lived like a hermit, but she hadn’t been the free spirit the media often tried to label members of her world.

  There had been a brief...thing between her and her leading man, which had been more to generate buzz for their show than true love. While she and Bryce Danzig were good friends, which made them a provocative on-screen duo, there had been nothing more.

  Still, she had made the effort at a real life outside the Hollywood hustle. Sadly, it was the Hollywood hustle that had made sustaining or even acquiring a real relationship impossible or hardly worth the effort.

  The seamless check-in process consisted of Rook’s signature on a pad. Then, they made their way to the elevator bay to embark upon a smooth ascent in a glass car lit by recessed gold lighting. As her heels sank into thick chocolate carpeting, Viva realized how wiped she was. The mellow environment allowed that fact to seep in. She gave a pronounced blink and fought to keep her eyes open. When she muffled a yawn behind a gloved hand, Rook pulled her into the reassuring shelter of his embrace. Viva shut her eyes and allowed the steady beat of his heart to lead her into escape.

  The elevator bumped to a gentle stop and the baggage handler escorted them down another expansive corridor. Rook kept a supportive arm about Viva’s waist and she couldn’t help but think how that simple touch was more secure than any of the elaborate measures her status deemed her worthy of.

  The handler disengaged the locks and double doors opened into a sumptuous suite lit by a single clay-based lamp in a far corner of the palatial living room. Heavy burgundy drapes were parted to reveal the snow falling across the hotel grounds.

  Viva took in the beauty of the suite while Rook tipped the handler once the man had returned from placing the luggage in the designated rooms. She continued her tour, approval curving her lips when her hands sank into the back of a plush sofa she passed.

  Rich auburn suede gave beneath a mound of softness she envisioned herself sinking into. For the second time that evening, she unzipped her boots and decided there was no time like the present. She sank into the suede sofa, comfort wrapping her in an embrace.

  Rook had seen off the handler and was then occupied by his phone when it chimed with a notification. Viva remembered she’d not taken her mobile off airplane mode since they’d landed, so she decided to check her missed calls, as well.

  Comfort and serenity fled once the screen activated before her eyes.

  Opening his phone to more than ten missed calls was nothing new to Rook. He hadn’t as yet, he thought with much relish, developed an emotional attachment to the device. He saw the text from Burt who had also made the ten missed calls. There was a link to a breaking news story. Upon scanning it, Rook’s eyes shifted to Viva.

  He’d noticed she’d settled onto one of the room’s lengthy sofas and was pleased that she might actually get some rest while they were away. Though her clothes and makeup were perfect despite the nine-hour flight, he could still detect the traces of exhaustion in her warm stare. He saw her sit up on the sofa and then stand with the phone clutched in her shaking hand.

  “There’s nothing you can do for her, V.”

  Viva turned to Rook as if she were dazed. Her expression revealed that she hadn’t wholly deciphered his words to her. She blinked rapidly several times before her eyes tracked to his phone and understanding wedged in alongside devastation.

  “I could be there.” Her voice was small but determined.

  “And be among what, V? Seventy other people already crowding into her hospital room?”

  Viva considered his phone with a measuring look. “I only have the info the doctors gave my cast mates. I’m guessing you’ve got more.”

  Rook knew that to encourage her to let the subject alone was a waste of his time. He didn’t try. Instead, he opened Burt’s text. “This’ll be breaking within the hour, I’m told. Bevy Ward?” He looked to Viva for confirmation on the name and watched her move from the sofa as she nodded.

  “She plays my sister on the show.”

  Rook nodded as he got a mental image of the actress who played Pamela Errol on the hit show. “She’d just taken the exit off the expressway leading to her place in the Hollywood Hills.”

  “She must’ve had a late night out that way,” Viva muttered, biting her thumbnail as she paced the area between the sofa and coffee table. “She hates that place.”

  “Her car hit a guardrail, s
pun out...” Rook trailed off at the look Viva sent his way. He let an agitated curse die a quick death on his tongue and continued with the story.

  “The rest of this hasn’t been released to the press. Prelim reports from authorities on scene say marks on the driver’s side could be consistent with it being sideswiped by another vehicle. There were no other vehicles in the vicinity when Ms. Ward was found. She’s got no family, so an attempt was made to contact her agent, Murray Dean. He couldn’t be reached. Ms. Ward’s costars from her show were then contacted.”

  Viva let out a whoosh of breath and lost her interest in pacing. She settled back onto the sofa but the cushiony furnishing did little to soothe her that time.

  “The reports are preliminary, V,” Rook said, in a soft reminder. Silently, he held to the idea that they were more than accurate.

  Viva apparently subscribed to that same theory. “Someone ran her off the road, didn’t they?”

  “I don’t need you worrying over this, V—”

  “Someone ran her off the road. Bevy is a client of Murray’s. Surely you aren’t going to try to convince me that this is all one big coincidence?”

  “No.” Rook set aside his phone. “I won’t try to convince you of that.”

  “I need to be there, Rook.” Viva made a shaky attempt to stand.

  “Viva—”

  “Bev’s not just my sister on TV, Rook. There’s real closeness there.” Emotion fired hotly in Viva’s eyes. “You may think that’s a bunch of shallow bull, but it’s true.” She paused, willing back the tears. “When things were at their lowest between me and my family, it was Bev who kept me from going off the deep end.”

  Smiling reflectively, Viva resumed her slow pacing. She hugged herself as she moved. “She’d always say she was an only child and would’ve liked to experience some of that sibling angst. ‘Only some, V,’ she’d say... ‘I don’t think I could handle it three hundred and sixty-five days a year.’” The laughter left Viva’s voice and was replaced then by a pleading tone that matched the look she sent to Rook.